


Nearly 5AM

by minttobe_treehill



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ...Enjoy?, Domestic Fluff i guess???, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Smut and Fluff, does that count as angst?, guess not, harry embarrasses himself in front of louis a couple of times, i haven't posted anything in months and this is my first larry fic help, not really smut but there you go, ugh I suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minttobe_treehill/pseuds/minttobe_treehill
Summary: “I almost didn’t recognize you”“What gave it away?”“You’re still the only person I know who’s too lanky for an average chair and table”Harry laughs and he already feels a tingle in his stomach; something way too familiar for it to surprise him.Or, it's 2018. One Direction broke up in 2013 – and so did Harry and Louis. After 5 years apart, they reconnect and realize that somehow, nothing (and also everything) has changed.





	Nearly 5AM

**Author's Note:**

> I'm like... Freaking out? I started this fic in November of 2017... Nine months writing only 16k. So I guess this is kind of my baby right now? Wow. Anyway, I've always wanted to write a larry fic. The very first fic that I read was about them and it's been years since I've wanted to try it out myself... And here I am today *gets emotional*
> 
> I made a playlist! I always listen to music when I'm writing, it helps me a lot to concentrate and push myself to keep on writing (I'm very inconsistent). Truth is I don't really listen to music while reading, though but I'm always interested in what kind of music inspire people. So here it is I guess, in case you want to check it out... [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXlVnTDpUSdEAKOwjBaBVkY4Ux6uPomRw)
> 
> I ended up talking quite a lot about their music as solo artists in this fic. I wasn't planning on it, but I think song writers always pour their souls in what they write and I think it gave the story a bit more of intimacy. Idk. 
> 
> There are references to other singers and shows... There's even a quote (kind of?) from Before Sunset, but maybe no one notices (?)
> 
> Also, this work has only been proofread by me so... Please forgive some mistakes I might have accidentaly left. 
> 
> That's it! Hope you like this litte story and if you feel like it, please leave a comment - I do love reading your thoughts and it's always a pleasure. xx
> 
> Title by Amber Run's '5AM'.

Harry still thinks London is both quite big and small. It’s a weird feeling, running into people you know almost everyday but still feeling you know nothing about the city and its people. You can get lost in it, which is always a plus, but it’s also easy to find the way back. Seems like a metaphor of some kind.

It’s not raining but it’s colder than it usually is (does spring even exist here?). But it’s almost 9 pm, so it’s fair. Mitch and Sarah left around half an hour ago, but he didn’t quite want to leave the place yet. The bartender and the owner are friends (well, friends’ friends but still) and there aren’t many people there, so it’s quiet and warm. The tour is over, so it’s quite nice to feel the silence and peace in a public place. Touring is the best thing he’s ever done, that’s for sure, but sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming and he doesn’t want to lose his mind – at least not yet.

He sips his tea once more and looks through the window on his left, almost losing himself in the light of the lamp posts and the fog that threatens to make the buildings disappear.

He’s so distracted by the landscape and his thoughts that he almost misses the sound of the door opening. Harry looks in front of him and sees a boy walking into the bar. He bites his inner cheek and gets lost in the street again. It has started to rain.

“Hi, hey, can I have a pint, please?”

The voice is quick, sharp, and the accent is thick. There’s a moment where Harry doesn’t recognize it, he hears it but doesn’t listen to it. There’s barely a second when he lives in a world where he doesn’t know how Louis’ voice sounds like.

He turns his head and looks at him, almost hearing his own heartbeat. Louis is wearing a green sweatshirt, light jeans and white trainers. His hair looks a bit wet. He starts counting in his head: three, four… It’s been five whole years since he hasn’t seen him. Not in person, at least. He has seen him in pictures, magazines – who is he kidding? He’s seen his music videos, he’s heard his voice. He’s seen a couple of interviews, but not all of them though, it felt too… Real, even weird, Harry doesn’t even know how to explain it to himself. But this is different: Louis is _here_ , he’s a few foots from where he’s sitting. Should he… Should he do something, say something, get up and leave? Louis hasn’t seen him just yet, he could get up and go home, lay in bed and think about all the things he wishes could’ve happened. Sounds like a plan. But he’s a grown-up – okay, he’s just going to wait and see what happens. That’s what adults do, right? His hands are sweaty and he suddenly feels his face heating up. He rests his hands on the table, feeling the cold wood, and bites his bottom lip, looking at the door. Seconds pass by and he’s incapable of doing anything, of moving, not even capable of looking at Louis again, of checking if he’s still there or he’s already gone. What if he’s gone?

He turns his head again and sees a pair of eyes already looking at him. Still blue, _so damn blue_. He can only see his face, since his whole body is resting on the counter, giving Harry his back, but still looking at him. Harry isn’t capable of decipher what Louis’ thinking by looking at his face, something he got quite used to, years ago. He swallows dry. _This isn’t happening._

He can’t stand this situation anymore, it’s too uncomfortable and he needs to breathe again, so he moves his head in a mere attempt to greet him, or at least to make Louis react, let him know he has acknowledged him – _of course he has_. Not even a second later, he can see a shy smile playing on Louis’ lips and that’s all Harry needs to breathe again. But instead of talking, Louis just copies him and greets him with his head. That leaves Harry cold again, without knowing what to do next. But Louis is still watching him.

“What?”, Louis asks, with a smile playing on his lips.

“What?”, Harry shoots back, already laughing. Is this a game or…?

Louis finally laughs and turns around. It’s been years since they haven’t laughed together and it’s great to find out they can still do it. Harry wasn’t sure if the connection would still be there, hanging in the air, almost touchable – but he can feel it again, watching Louis approaching him with a light smile on his lips. _Breathe, Harry._

“I almost didn’t recognize you”, he says, resting his right fist on the table and looking at Harry.

“What gave it away?”. And it’s honestly just an excuse to make the interaction lighter and fun. If Louis’ eyes were blue from foots away, now they’re up close Harry doesn’t even know how a couple of eyes can be _so_ blue. His hair is shorter than he remembers, but his features are exactly they way Harry remembered them; there’s also something else that’s different in Louis, but he can’t picture what.

“You’re still the only person I know who’s too lanky for an average chair and table”

Harry laughs and he already feels a tingle in his stomach; something way too familiar for it to surprise him.

He gets up and there’s an awkward moment where he doesn’t know if hugging Louis would be okay, or if it’d feel the same. He stands there, with his arms in both sides of his body, looking at a boy who hasn’t grown an inch but seems older – more handsome, if he lets himself be truly honest. At last, it’s Louis who gives in and opens his arms to hug him.

His sweatshirt is a bit wet and cold, but the moment he presses himself to Louis’ body, he can feel the heat radiating from their embrace. Harry hugs his middle, pressing his warm and big palms in his back while he feels Louis’ arms pressed against the back of his neck and the beginning of his back. The moment he lets himself get lost into it, Louis’ arms are leaving his body.

It gets even more awkward. Now they’re both standing close, facing each other and not really knowing what to do next.

“Well, do y—”

“Do you wa—”

 _God, no. Make this stop, please._ Yeah, it’s awkward.

“You talk”, Louis simply says, with a light smile in his face and playing with his own hands.

“No, I just… I mean, if you want... I mean I’ve almost finished my tea but maybe you could… You know. If you want to”

That’s not how talking works, but it’s too late now.

Harry looks up and sees Louis with his lips pressed together, scratching his chin, frowning. “ _Ah_ forget it, don’t worry about it, I don’t want to make this awkward, sorry”.

He sits down again, already feeling his cheeks heat up. Why the hell does he always have to be so upfront? Why can’t he just say _hello, how are you, I’m good, see you, bye_ , like casual people do. It’s too awkward for Louis, he gets it – he really does, it’s just that… He could’ve done the same thing with Liam if he had run into him. His chest wouldn’t feel this tight and he wouldn’t be praying for the ground to just swallow him whole but… Yeah, essentially, the same.

He braves it and looks up again. Louis hasn’t moved an inch, but now he’s smiling with his mouth closed, looking at Harry like he has just fallen over or something – he kind of has. He starts moving his head from side to side, his smile getting bigger.

“You’re the worst”, he says before turning around, grabbing his beer and sitting in the chair facing him.

Suddenly, Harry realizes he doesn’t know what do to, what to talk about, what to say. He starts playing with his hair and fidgeting with his own fingers. He looks at Louis for a second before looking away, just to check if he at least looks as nervous as himself right now. _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s Louis, everything’s okay_.

“So… What are you doing here in London?”, Louis finally asks, breaking the ice once again.

“I just finished the tour and wanted to stay here for a couple of days until I go back home”, he simply answers.

“Cool”

“You?”

“Ah… Don’t know, just chilling here I guess”

And it’s awkward again.

They both keep their eyes on their drinks and there’s a tension between them that had never been there before: the need to either go away or talk about the weather – like in an elevator.

“The weather is nice today”, Harry dumbly says.

Louis looks at him like he’s just said something that doesn’t make any sense – and the thing is, it doesn’t. It’s cold and rainy and even though that can be pleasant, it’s not a _nice_ day.

“Sorry”, he says before seeing how the frown in Louis’ face disappears and he just laughs uncomfortably. “I don’t know why this is awkward”

He can feel the heat coming up to his cheeks and he hates it. Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t they just start talking about all the things he’s wanted to tell Louis over the last five years? It’ not pleasant – the knot in his stomach and the heavy headache he can feel coming every time he says a word. His throat is dry and he can’t stop moving his fingers and his right leg – a nervous habit. Louis, on the other hand, looks calm. _He hates it._

He bites his lips and is about to finish his tea right away and get up, when he sees Louis holding up his hand in front of him.

“Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson. You look like a popstar, are you famous?”

And there it is. _Lou_. He finally sees it, sees _him_. The same one who asked for a picture with Harry in a bathroom of a crowded competition the very first moment they met.

He smiles and shakes his hand, “Harry. Styles. Not a popstar, though. You look like a PE teacher who makes children play football just because he loves it himself”

Louis starts laughing loudly while still holding his hand and Harry remembers how much pride he used to feel every time he would make him laugh. It’s a nice feeling.

They’re gonna be just fine.

-*-

“I thought you were in LA, actually”

Harry lifts his stare from his cup of tea and looks at Louis, who’s already looking at him straight in the eyes. Still breathtaking, but _no, focus_.

“No, I… Well, technically I was going to stay there for one more week but the tour finished so I just wanted to come home”

There’s no explanation, Louis doesn’t tell him why he knows he’s supposed to be in LA and Harry doesn’t ask because… Because it feels amazing that Louis is still keeping track of him – if that’s really what’s happening. There’s a smile creeping in his own face, and he can’t help but look up and meet his blue eyes for one more second before Louis can't keep his stare and look away, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“I wrote the album there though, at least most of it. Feeling away from home and not… Well, not being in the band anymore and feeling a bit like… Like I didn’t really know what do to next, if you know what…?” He looks up again and sees Louis moving his head up and down, letting him know he does indeed what he’s trying to say, “So… It kind of inspired me, I guess”. He lefts out the part about writing songs _for Louis, about Louis, of Louis._

"And you let your hair grow… And then cut it again"

There's humor in his tone, and somehow that makes it all easier. Harry finds out Louis still loves to make funny comments, to humor people with just his voice and his choice of words, always sounding like he has more to say but just decides not to.

"I did" – he just answers, blushing and chuckling, trying to hide his eyes from Louis.

"Looks good any way"

Harry looks at him with big hopeful eyes, even more surprised than before. But what’s waiting for him makes his brain go fuzzy and almost lose focus: Louis' eyes are already on him, glowing in a way it reminds him of toothbrushes and foam in front of the mirror, a bit late at night in the X Factor house; Harry used to pretend the light behind Louis' eyes was just because of the bright light bulb of the bathroom – but the truth is he fell asleep every night thinking that maybe, just maybe, Louis' eyes shined because of him.

And maybe, just maybe, that hasn't changed at all.

He locks his eyes with Louis' and neither of them look away for a couple of seconds. This time, it's Harry who gives up first and looks at his hands, but even when he starts playing with his own rings, he still feels watched. He dares to look up again, but this time his stare doesn't fix on Louis' eyes – he focusses on his face and the way it's almost entirely covered by hair. His beard is something new to Harry – just like maybe his open shirt and jewelry are new to Louis.

"What?", he asks, definitely feeling watched.

"Your beard... It's _new_ "

"I did have a beard before"

Harry frowns. He doesn't remember Louis hav– _Oh._ He sees Louis smiling tentatively, looking at him with playful eyes and long lashes on top of them. He wants to laugh because the comment is actually funny, but he's too distracted by Louis joking and his lashes and his actual beard, and maybe there's also a hint of bad memories playing around in his chest that doesn't let him react.

"Sorry", Louis says. Harry feels terrible.

He makes a face and almost touches Louis' hand, resting close to his arm. He doesn't, he can't, not _yet._ Instead, he shrugs his shoulders, "nah, it's not like it has been 5 whole years or something"

Louis still has humor in his tone when he asks, "is 5 years a lot for you?"

He pinches his lower lip with his index and thumb and shrugs again, "it used to be a lot of time for me, yeah"

"Used to?"

"Well, looking at you now, it doesn't feel that long"

It looks like Louis stops for a moment and just stares at him. He clenches his jaw after a couple of intense seconds and Harry could swear he mouths an _"is that so?"_ but he decides to let it go; what he sees in Louis' stare scares him a bit, something he didn't quite expect the moment he saw him.

He tries to repress the memory that comes along with Louis' eyes, but he can't. He remembers it like it was yesterday: they were both in the room where they slept with the rest of the boys, late at night, already pitched black – but they were together in Harry's bed. It's weird because he couldn't see Louis' eyes but somehow, he knows they had the same shape and light, that they meant the same thing they do right now. _I want you_ , they said that night. And it was okay – it was great, actually – even though it was terrifying and overwhelming. But great, _right._ Now... Now it shouldn't feel that way.

Harry clears his throat, “So… What about you? What are you working on now?”. He needed to change the subject, to get away from the butterflies and the weird tingle in his stomach.

 “Well, you know, the… The album is finished so…”

“So it _is_ finished?”

“Yeah, yeah… It’s been finished for a while now, actually”

Harry gives him a weird look, to what Louis just shrugs. “Don’t know when it’ll be out, though”

“Why?”

“I don’t know”

“But w—”

“I don’t wanna talk about that”

Harry stares at him with a stern expression on his face. He knows why.

“It’s not the same thing, don’t look at me like that”, he says before finishing his beer and looking away.

“I didn’t say anything”

It’s not awkward this time, it actually feels too familiar. Seems like some things haven’t changed.

“You’re not a toy, you’re a person, a hard working one if I may add. They’re doing the same thing they did to you years ago. You’re too good for this shit, Lou”

He wants to tell him the songs he’s already released are good; the lyrics are brilliant. He wants Louis to know he's excited to listen to the whole album, to get to know him more through his music. And he knows people are too. He's always known how much writing means to Louis, even when anybody else knew. He remembers how he used to hide in every corner he could find of the X Factor house to write something, a chorus, a line, a brainstorm of words. He used to not let Harry read what he wrote _, "Harry, get away, it's stupid, really"_. And Harry never pushed. One day, Louis just threw his notebook on Harry's bed without saying anything. Harry kissed him for the first time hours later. He’s known how passionate Louis is for his work since then, and he’s always hated how some people like to take advantage of that and play him. It’s sad to think not even himself was able to make it stop when they were together – even sadder to think how he’s no one to change it now.

He realizes Louis is looking right into his eyes with a slight redness in his cheeks and a gentle smile on his lips. He seems frozen and shocked, and Harry’s heart starts going crazy in his chest.

“My _hero_ ”

Harry rolls his eyes and starts laughing loudly, almost embarrassed he let that little confession slip.

Louis reaches out and touches the cup of tea between them, looking for Harry’s eyes. “I appreciate that you care, but don’t worry about it”

Harry keeps staring at him, not wanting to let go of this new intimacy just yet. He wishes he was better at this: he’s good with words when it comes to people, he knows how to express himself and not stumble over his own words; he isn’t afraid of not saying the right thing, because something he’s learned over the years is that saying what you feel – telling your truth – is never wrong, even if it is as cheesy as it sounds. But it’s different when it comes to Louis; all these years have made him forget how it feels like to be around someone like him, someone who makes you feel comfortable and at peace, but also somebody who makes your knees weak – Harry’s knees, at least. He doesn’t want to mess this up (again), he wants to say the right things at the right moment, he wants time to think what’s best, what could make them be the Harry and Louis they once were. He doesn’t know if he has that time, so it’s scary and this whole situation feels like quicksand. It’s terrifying.

“Going back to your music, though… Lottie loved– _loves_ your album", Louis mumbles.

Harry doesn't want to blush again – it's stupid. He looks up and bites his bottom lip, not really knowing what to say or what to do.

"Lottie my... My sister Lottie, I mean"

Harry laughs. Turns out Louis is oblivious about how much Harry remembers. It's not like remembering Lottie and his whole family is something to be impressed with, but the truth is he still remembers every bit of information Louis once told him about every single member of his family. He practically knows all of them by his words, by his anecdotes and little snippets of their family life.

"I remember", he just says, not trying to give away too much. “So, _you_ don’t like it”

Louis looks up, “No, I hate it. It’s awful. Rookie material”

Harry barks another laugh and sees Jenna raise her head right after going back to what she was doing. Okay, it’s getting stupid now. He can’t keep embarrassing himself in public.

He drinks what’s left of his tea and pinches his bottom lip, holding it between his index and his thumb. He looks at the street and thinks how much he once wanted to show Louis his songs. The day he chose the definitive track list of his album, he went home thinking about what Louis would have thought of his choice. He pictured him in the studio by his side, nodding to every song that was being mentioned and then looking back at Harry with a smile on his face. It would’ve made everything easier.

He goes back to the real world and looks at the man sitting across from him, only to realize he is already looking at him. Louis smiles and looks away, looking embarrassed, what only makes Harry smile bigger.

Five years? They mean nothing.

**-*-**

They spend more than two hours lost in conversation. Harry goes on and on about his album and the tour, how it all felt different than all they did together as One Direction, but also how it still felt familiar and comfortable. They talk about how lonely writing can get now, how it’s weird not to have any of the boys around to ask them about a new song, a new line, maybe even a new sound or a concept for a song; but also how liberating it feels now, how much freer and personal all the new songs that come out feel to them. The conversation is light and… Safe. Very safe, if Harry is a hundred percent honest with himself. They don’t talk about the old times – at least not _their_ old times. They talk about the present and a bit of the future, about what’s ahead for each of them.

Harry listens to Louis like he’s never met him before. It’s exciting and warm. His high-pitched voice when he gets too excited, how low it gets when he’s nervous or doesn’t feel confident in what he’s saying. He notices how his eyes always come back to Harry’s when he’s explaining something, trying to check if Harry’s still listening to him – _he is._

When Harry’s the one talking, he tries to keep his eyes on Louis the whole time, trying to remember how his stare feels on him – in case he has to say goodbye to it again. Louis keeps nodding and pressing his lips together, sometimes avoiding Harry’s intense stare and looking at his hands or his beer. He’s never avoided Harry’s stare before; he wonders if he would’ve refused to look at him if they had seen each other after the break up.

They somehow fall into an easy and calm atmosphere. The bar is practically empty now and there’s a mild lighting that helps create a comfortable and intimate dynamic between them. Harry manages to make Louis laugh and there’s even a couple of times where he has to cover his mouth with his hand not to be too loud. It’s endearing and makes Harry wish he could make him laugh for the rest of his life. Louis makes him laugh as well, to the point his stomach hurts and they have to be quiet for a couple of minutes until Harry can talk again. There’s a blush in both their faces – it’s feels exciting and almost new if it wasn’t the most familiar thing Harry has had in years.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna order another tea and go to the loo a minute. Want another beer?”

“Nah, no, I’m okay, thanks”, Louis says with a slight nod.

Harry gets up and looks at Louis one more time. He wants to say, _“don’t go anywhere”_ but maybe it’s too much and makes him uncomfortable. Instead, he stands there ogling at Louis. _Embarrassing_. Louis’ eyes are shining under the dim lights of the bar and there’s a smile playing on his lips; he even mouths a soft “what?” because Harry is still looking at him, so he just shrugs and starts walking before he blushes again.

He stops at the bar and asks Jenna, the bartender, for another cup of tea before heading to the bathroom. It’s empty, so he rests his hands on both sides of the sink, looking at the mirror and breathing for the first time in what feels like hours. There’s soft music playing through the speakers and it doesn’t really help him calm down – this feels like a freaking movie. It can’t be true, right? It can’t happen like this: he can’t run into Louis after years and still feel the same, still have the connection they both had the moment they met.

He turns on the tap and refreshes his face with the cold water. He starts thinking that maybe the reason why only memories from The X Factor are playing in his head is the fact that he can’t picture the Louis he shared an actual home with; it’s too hard. Sitting across from him, it’s easier to remember him as the boy he kissed for the first time in a tiny bunk bed and not the one he had sex with for the first time in a room that still smelled like fresh paint and new furniture.

He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to laugh. _This is crazy_. After wiping his face and giving himself one last boost of confidence, he realizes he’s scared Louis isn’t waiting for him anymore. But maybe it’s for the best, maybe it’s stupid to believe he can have Louis back into his life – whatever that means. He really wants to call Gemma and ask her for advice, but he forgets about everything when he steps out of the bathroom and sees Louis’ still there, looking through the window.

Harry grabs the tea from the counter and thanks Jenna before sitting down again. He almost spills his beverage trying to hold the cup, but hopefully Louis doesn’t notice.

“Do you talk to the boys?”

Harry nods before actually answering, “yeah, yeah. Not too often but… yeah”. Louis gives him a knowing smile and he understands exactly what he means. “Actually, Niall asked me about you the other day”, he says, laughing.

Louis frowns, “What? I talk to that bastard every week, why the hell would he ask you about me? What did he say?”

Harry keeps laughing, because the whole situation still feels unreal. “He… I don’t know, it’s Niall, he asked me if we still talk”

Louis frowns again and starts laughing with him. “Why— I can’t with him, honestly. He’s like a little kid”

Harry presses his lips together and nods.

“What did you tell him?”

The question comes when all the laughing has gone away, so Louis’ tone is more serious. It makes Harry’s hands sweat and he feels a knot in his stomach.

“I mean, we weren’t talking when he asked, were we?”

He tries to make the situation feel light again, but there’s a heavy implication in his words – and he figures in Louis’ question as well. Harry watches him fidget with his own fingers, not looking at him anymore. He’s nervous.

“It’s weird, right? I mean, we… We broke up and I… I didn’t know how to talk to you after that”

It feels like a huge confession; Louis almost looks embarrassed. He wants so bad to reach out and give him a hug, tell him it’s okay, he understands. That doesn’t matter right now, does it?

“Hey”, Harry says, resting his flat palm in the desk, next to Louis’ beer. “It’s okay, Lou, I get it. I… I didn’t know either. It’s fine”

He’s thought about that a lot, actually. He’s pictured a life where him and Louis had never dated before, where they’ve only been friends – but never grown apart from each other. Sometimes it feels like they had to choose, like it was fall in love with each other and be together for a short period of time, or just be friends but never leave each other’s side. That’s kind of the way it was explained to them, at least. It’s bullshit.

There are times where he also pictures what a life with Louis would have looked like. But that hurts a bit more.

He sees Louis smile through the clear embarrassment and red of his cheeks. “Maybe if we had kept in touch, we’d had ended up hating each other”. He doesn’t think so, but it makes the tension go away a bit.

“Like we hate each other now?” Louis asks.

And it’s a heavy implication. It’s going back to all the _what would have happened if_. “I don’t know”, he simple answers.

He looks through the window and sees a girl snapping a picture of them with her phone. For a minute, he wonders if that would have consequences now, if a photo of them together is still something people can hold against them. Probably not. It’d be here and there and some fans would still talk about it on twitter, sure, but he isn’t expecting Louis or him to be called out in an office to hear a grown-up man almost yelling about a damn picture. What scares Harry is the hint of sadness he feels in the pit of his stomach – _do I want to be called out about it? Am I really feeling sad because us meeting doesn’t mean anything anymore?_ It feels good to be free – well, as free as one can be, but it also means this encounter is nothing but two ex-members of One Direction running into each other, this isn’t _Harry and Louis seen together (and alone) in a bar_ anymore. That’s the only way Harry remembers it all.

Suddenly, Harry feels the urge to say something, to _confess._ "Sometimes I still think it could've worked"

 “Us talking after the break up or…?”

“ _Or_ , yeah”

It looks like Louis has seen a ghost. Maybe he has.

"Really?"

"You don't?"

"I dunno", Louis answers. It almost feels like he actually does know.

Harry regrets the confession. He wants to take it away, to erase it. Why in hell did he say that? "But it didn't work, so"

"Yeah, it didn't", Louis finally says.

The air is suddenly filled with a new tension between them, something Harry hadn't felt in years, in all these years apart. He wants to keep on talking, to look up at him and say "but it could have", challenge Louis, try again and make it all work in the way it didn't. It's like the tension they felt after their first kiss, full with unspoken words and just so many damn feelings. Harry didn't quite remember how much it all could hurt.

"Why didn't it work, though?"

And there it is, there it is again. Exactly like the way Louis laughed right after their lips touched for the first time. Harry remembers feeling a bit insecure, thinking that maybe Louis was just laughing at him or at the moment, maybe thinking how dumb and stupid the kiss might had felt. But what he remembers the most is feeling absolutely relieved, like a weight had lifted away from his shoulders and nothing else mattered anymore – or everything finally mattered. There was room for more then, room for more questions and unsure answers, room for more of Louis, more of them. Just like now.

"We were young"

 _…And lots of people told us we couldn’t be together, at least not in public. I couldn’t hold your hand and it drove me crazy. All the songs were about you and people didn’t even realize that, or didn’t want to. You were out with a girl while I was on the other side of town with some friends, only wishing we would both be home. Together._ But that’s harder to say out loud.

"Don't say that", Louis says.

"Why? We _were_ young"

"But we weren't stupid. I wasn't with you because I was tired of playing with my dick by myself"

Harry covers his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh. Still no filter, okay, noted.

He composes himself, "that's not what I meant. We... I think we thought too much of ourselves together"

Louis frowns. "Mate... Explain"

 _Mate_?

"We decided we would live together after days of meeting each other. We honestly believed we would be together forever. That's crazy"

"So, it was better to think we couldn't last?"

"No, but I think it could have been better to think that maybe, just maybe, we wouldn't be together forever"

And that’s true. _It is_. If you take away all the horrible stuff they were drown into, they would still have been two kids playing at love, trying so hard to grab something that wasn’t supposed to last long – at least not too long. That’s the story Harry has always told himself, the only way he has been able to understand not just how he could feel such a deep connection with someone he didn’t know very well, and also why they couldn’t tell the world what was going on. _They were young_.

Louis licks his lips and looks at Harry in a way he isn't able to decipher. He frowns again and his eyes look smaller. He can't even see the blue in them.

"What happened to you?"

Now it’s Harry who frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You've changed. The Harry I knew would have never said that, he'd have never said we should've played it cool and not think we could last. You were the fucking romantic type, always hopeful and bright. What happened?"

You. You did. Well… _Didn't_.

"I ran out of practice, I guess"

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not, I just... I don’t know, I just thought that would be something that could never change”

“Me being naïve?”

Louis looks straight into his eyes and clenches his jaw. He lets his flat palms slide back in the wooden table and rests his back into the chair. Harry feels nervous until he sees Louis hold up both his hands and say, “alright, I give up”

That makes him smile and look at his cup of tea, trying to look for something to think of. Something that isn’t _you made me change, you took away all the hope I had in lasting forever beside one person; because of you I haven’t been able to cry or to fall in love because everything has been used up on you –_ isn’t that a Tom Odell song?

“What about you, though? Are you a romantic now?”, he asks.

Louis lowers his chain, still resting his back in the chair and frowns, but with a smile playing on his lips, “what are you implying, Harold? That I wasn’t a romantic before?”

 _Harold._ That’s better than _mate_.

“I mean…”, he says, trying not to laugh.

Louis pretends to be shocked, _or is he actually shocked?_

“I fucking spent my cash in that fair to get you a stupid teddy bear”

“Oh, so that’s romantic for you? I rest my case then”

They both laugh, like genuinely laugh. It makes Harry’s stomach tickle.

When all the humor is gone, Louis talks again, but this time he sounds different, more serious, even insecure. “You always knew I… I wasn’t exactly a _big things_ kinda guy. I didn’t think – I mean, it never occurred to me that you needed that”

“I didn’t. I’m not criticizing you, it was a… Dumb joke”

“Was it? We can start roasting each other for the things we did or didn’t do, if you want”

There’s not even a hint of bad blood in the way he says that, so Harry just opens his eyes wide and bites his own bottom lip, stifling a laugh. He looks down for a second and tries to speak, “I… I… _Well_ , nothing”.

“No, no, no”, Louis says, laughing, “What?”

“I… I just, I wouldn’t have anything to roast you with. I mean… I… I don’t… Well, didn’t have any complaints. Didn’t? Don’t? You know what I mean”

He really shouldn’t be blushing or feeling self-conscious, it’s not the confession of the year anyway. But the way Louis is looking at him, like he just told him a secret he never knew anything about, it’s almost making him want to cry. Does Louis not know _anything_?

He almost drinks the whole tea in one ship. His throat is suddenly dry and Louis’ eyes are still on him. He had forgotten what flirting felt like, like actually flirting, the flirting that has banter and some familiarity to it; the one that makes your head feel lighter and your sides tingle. Once flirting with Louis has been like that and he’d had to make himself forget how it felt like.

He takes his phone from his pocket and checks it for a moment, still nervous and trying to get away from Louis’ stare, at least till he knows it’s going to stay for good. He sees a couple of messages from his mum and Gemma – nothing that can’t wait.

“Ah, I should go, you’re probably busy”, Louis says, almost in a rush.

He finishes what’s left of his beer (if there was even something left) and starts shuffling before getting up. Harry panics.

“No. No, no, no. I mean… I’m not busy, don’t—”

Louis stands there, looking at him with a light smile on his face. “I mean, if you are busy then…”. At least it’s better than _don’t go,_ even if that’s exactly what Harry wants to say.

It’s late, Louis is already next to the bar, saying something to Jenna. Harry quickly gets up, putting on his coat, and sees him reaching for something on his pocket.

“No, no! I’m paying”, Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Louis laughs and beats him, giving Jenna the money.

“No, Jenna, take this, ignore him”

Now’s Jenna who is laughing. They must look stupid. She already has the bills Louis gave her on her hand when Harry reaches and tries to give her his money. Louis beats him again, just like he can read his mind, and puts his hand on his. Harry freezes.

They look at each other and Harry only finds kindness and warmth in Louis’ expression. He can’t take his eyes of off him now, it’s like they’re magnets who have finally let themselves connect. The connection is even more intense now than it was before, to the point they don’t even realize Jenna has taken Louis’ money already.

Louis coughs and lets go of Harry’s hand. The moment is lost when Harry realizes they are the only people left on the bar and Jenna is heading to their table to clean it up. Must be a bit late, then.

-*-

Harry doesn’t really know _how much_ he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Louis until they’re out in the street. He wants to go home with him, to have dinner and keep on catching up; to kiss him, undress him and have sex in the couch. To wake up and have breakfast together and then never say goodbye again.

It’s cold again and the streets are damp, but it’s not raining anymore. Harry presses his lips and rubs his palms together, looking everywhere but at Louis.

“Yeah, a bit cold, isn’t it?”

Harry looks at him and nods, smiling even though he hasn’t really heard what Louis has said.

They look like two abandoned puppies in the street at night – at least that’s how Harry feels right now. Louis hides his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt and Harry does the same, only into his long black coat. They share a glance and laugh it off.

“So… I’m staying in a hotel for now, so I should call my car. You going home?”

Harry licks his lips before answering, “yeah… Yeah, yeah, I’m knackered”. No, he’s not, but what is he supposed to say?

Louis nods, “Well… It was nice to see you and catch up”, he says stepping into Harry’s space

Harry bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “yeah, yeah”

His head is full of things to say, ways of stopping Louis and asking him to go home with him. But nothing comes out of his mouth. Instead, they share a quick hug and some words he won’t remember saying once he’s closed the door of his flat. He’s so anxious and nervous he doesn’t even offer Louis to stay with him and wait together for the car he’s about to call for; he just turns around and starts walking towards his place. He’s going to spend a ten-minute walk thinking of all the things he should have said. He thinks back of all these years he’s spent wondering what would have happened if he had tried to reach out and work things out with the only person who has made him feel something.

Before messing things up again, Harry turns around and almost bumps into Louis, who is already on his phone, apparently asking for that car. His eyes shoot up and stares at Harry like he’s seen a ghost, again.

“Wannacometomyplace?”

Louis doesn’t seem to have understood anything Harry has said, _obviously_.

“Wait a second James, please”, he says before putting his hand on the speaker, “What did you just say?”

And by the look on his eyes and the half smile that’s fighting not to show up, Harry knows Louis has actually understood what he’s said – or at least suspected it.

Harry laughs and tries not to stumble upon his words this time, “I said, wanna come to my place?”

“Weren’t you… _Knackered_?” Louis asks in what seems like an awful impression of Harry himself.

Harry just shrugs.

“Er, I don’t know. What do you have for dinner? Was I supposed to bring something? Is it a sleepover? Because I haven’t brought my pajamas, you know”

His smile grows even bigger, he thinks of joking back, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can control himself, “just your company will be okay”

“Cheesy, but I’ll take it” he says before going back to his phone and cancelling the car.

-*-

The walk to Harry’s place is calm and quieter than expected. There’s a new tension between them Harry still doesn’t know how to label – not that he needs to. Harry tells Louis he got his flat two years and a half ago, tired of always having to get a hotel room whenever he wanted to stay in London. They don’t talk about the flat they both shared in this same city many years ago – and they surely don’t talk about how much it hurt to sell it either. But walking side by side with Louis makes him feel like he’s 18 years old again, coming home with a younger Louis who couldn’t stop talking about football.

When they finally reach the door, Harry starts seeking for his keys and suddenly is struck by the fact he hasn’t had a guy over in years, and realizing that guy is Louis… Well, that doesn’t help exactly, so he drops his keys and almost knocks his head against the door while trying to pick them up from the floor.

“Sorry”, he breathes, already hearing Louis’ muffled laugh.

By the corner of his eye, he sees Louis leaning against the frame and can feel his eyes on him. Nervous and excited, he doesn’t seem to be able to open the door, even when he’s 100% sure he’s using the right key. It feels nice, that feeling in the pit of his stomach that doesn’t let him breathe properly but that also turns him on and makes him want to keep doing whatever it is they are doing.

“I really hope this is actually your flat and we’re not trespassing”, Louis says with humor in his voice.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t trespass? If it was the case, I mean”

“Don’t push my buttons, Styles”

Harry laughs and something in the way Louis said that, he knows that he would – and if knowing Louis would trespass a flat to be with Harry is what gives him the courage he needs to open the door, then be it.

The silence gets thicker once they get into the elevator. Harry’s flat is on the last floor, so it’s the longest elevator ride possible. _Great_. The space is not big enough for two people to stand next to each other, so Louis lays on the railing and Harry stands as close as possible to the buttons, pressing his floor’s number and just… Well, waiting.

He’s always liked that the elevator had speakers, something way too fancy for the building but still fun. He doesn’t like it now, because Adele is singing from the top of her lungs and Louis is standing right next to him. They’re going up, but it does feel like a _skyfall_.

Suddenly, it’s too much. What if they do end up having sex? Or what if Louis isn’t really interested anymore? Or worse, what if Louis just wants sex? What if they fuck and then it’s weird and they never see each other again? Oh god, what if they do fuck and then see each other and it’s even weirder? Harry wants to see Louis again tomorrow morning and the day after that, and for it not to be weird; he wants to kiss him and have sex and talk about everything and share all the songs he’s written but never seen the light. He wants to go home to his family and see his mum’s big smile when Louis enters through the door, and Gemma giving him a knowing smile. He wants to be able to tell Niall they do indeed talk, they never intend to stop, actually. He wants so many things and—

“I think this is us”

He turns to look at Louis and realizes the elevator has stopped.

 _Oh. Right._ He thinks he even says that out loud. He manages to step out of the elevator and find his door. This time, Louis follows him from behind so Harry doesn’t find any trouble using the key this time. He opens the door and looks at Louis.

“Welcome”, he says, letting Louis go first.

 _Welcome to my place_ , that is. Although it could also be, _welcome to my life again, welcome to me and who I am now. Welcome, Lou._

Louis presses his hand on Harry’s stomach for a second before getting into his apartment, in a way of saying _thank you_. It’s so quiet and intimate Harry needs a moment to recover his breath. Letting Louis into his home is something he didn’t even dream of, something that was practically impossible – yet here they are, and Harry needs to get a grip and act like an adult, not like a teenager who has a crush over for the first time.

He manages to move and close the door behind him. “This is cool”, he hears Louis says.

“Yeah? I do like it, it’s home-y”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice”

The place is almost just black and white, with gray and red pieces to it, but it also has a lot of light, which is something Harry’s still in love with. The living room where the sofa and the tv are is connected to the kitchen with a small bar. The bathroom and his room are upstairs. It’s kind of small but it somehow has a lot of space as well. Not _home_ , but sometimes feels like it. Yeah, _home-y_.

Harry turns the lights on, takes off his shoes and points Louis to do the same if he wants to. He turns around, sees the clock that’s resting on top of the tv and realizes it’s past midnight. _Wow_. He hasn’t had dinner yet, but doesn’t know if Louis has or not.

“Hey, have you eaten something already?”, he asks, taking off his coat and placing it on the hanger that rests next to the front door.

“No, actually, no. Wanna order something?”

Louis is next to the couch, turning his head to Harry, waiting for an answer. There’s a familiarity to the whole scene that makes Harry’s chest warm for a few seconds.

“I… I have some leftovers from this morning, actually. Some Chinese. If… I mean, we can order some more take out if you want, though”

Louis looks up again, staring at harry from the couch, “is it enough for the both of us?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so”

“Okay, bring it”

Harry smiles to himself and gets all the containers and a couple of beers to the small table in front of the couch. Louis is sitting on the floor, looking up at him like they do this all the time. Harry shakes his head slightly and sits down beside Louis – but not touching. Louis’ the one who scoots over and sits closer to Harry which, _oh hello._

Harry takes the remote and turns the tv on, flipping though the channels until he pauses on a Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon. He turns the volume down, though – Louis next to him is better than Andy Samberg in his brightest moments.

There’s silence for a few moments, both of them starving and eating whatever it is on the containers Harry brought. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a ticking clock in Harry’s mind that tells him time’s passing and he will not be able to enjoy Louis’ presence for more than a few hours – if he’s lucky. So he starts talking about stuff that either doesn’t make sense or doesn’t matter at all; the weather, easy memories, where he bought the carpet they’re sitting on… There are a million questions in his mind, questions that he shouldn’t ask, questions he doesn’t even know if he wants an answer for, but it’s hard, it’s hard to ask serious questions when Louis keep laughing at Harry’s stupid jokes, when he covers his mouth with the back of his hand when he gets too loud. Harry doesn’t want to take that away from them now that it’s come back.

-*-

When Harry has completely lost track of time, it’s Louis who brings up all the stuff that’s already in his head, “this kinda looks like the house we bought here”

Harry almost chokes on his beer. He remembers the day they bought it, just having looked at it for a few seconds before giving the okay. It did remind him of their house as well, but he didn’t really put two and two together until now – or maybe he did but wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. What he remembers the most is thinking it was too big for him, when the truth is it isn’t really a big apartment. Louis used to be so loud (still is) that he would fill every room, no matter how big or small it was.

Harry looks at Louis, who’s resting his elbow on the couch behind them, face pressed against his palm, staring at Harry with curious eyes. Harry nods, “yeah, it kind of does”.

And somehow, the conversation dies before it has started. Louis keeps staring at him like he really wants to say something, and Harry tries his best to ignore it and look at his food. He starts thinking about all the time they spent in an apartment that looked like this one, all the things they did in every room, how their lives were connected in a mere house lost in the streets of a busy and loud London. It’s crazy.

“We’ve been good, right?” Louis suddenly asks.

Harry frowns.

“We haven’t talked about… You know, stuff that could make us end up yelling at each other”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, “You think we would end up like that?”

“Nah”, Louis says, laughing, “hope not, but we haven’t risked it”

Harry nods, wanting to laugh. Turns out, Louis has been thinking the same thing all this time, not wanting to burst their little bubble. He ends up giving up and smiling, resting his arm on the couch, “do we have to?”

Louis laughs. “I think… I think that’s what grownups do”

“Really? Are we grownups?” Harry says, mocking him a bit.

Louis’ eyes look bluer than usual. _Fuck_.

“I still feel like a kid when I’m with you”, Harry says.

And _okay_. It’s not his fault, is Louis’. _Those eyes. Goddamn it_.

Louis bites his bottom lip and tries to hide it with his top one, looking away and resting his forehead on his forearm for a second before looking at Harry again.

“What hurt the most?”, Harry asks, not being able to shut up his brain any longer.

“What?”

“About the break up. I mean, after we broke up – what was the hardest thing?”

Louis takes a breath before talking and Harry suddenly feels breathless. “Living without you, I guess. When we were together I… I don’t know, I could have the shittiest day and it didn’t really matter as long as I came back to you – even if it meant just having dinner together or… Or watching an episode of Breaking Bad, I don’t know” – both laugh, releasing some of the tension and emotion that had been building up these past minutes – “Our little traditions, I guess. Suddenly you weren’t there and I didn’t even know what to do. I had people in my life who could cheer me up and make me feel better, sure, but… They weren’t you, I don’t know”

 _They weren’t you._ Harry feels like crying at this sudden confession.

“And you?”

“I… Yeah, that too. I remember having a conversation with Liam a couple of weeks after the break up. You know Liam, he’s… Not very good at comforting and stuff but sometimes he’s like a d—”

“Like a dad, yeah”

“Yeah… And he asked me something like that, he asked me what I missed the most about us being together and I just said, ‘him’. Yeah, I just missed you”

 _Missed. Miss._ Harry doesn’t really know which word to use – so he ends up rambling.

“This is stupid, okay? But I read a book once, many many years ago, about a boy who made friends with a monster. The monster would hurt other people but always come back to him at night to read him a book. He never questioned his behavior because he didn’t have any friends at school and he didn’t want to be alone. Somehow, after reading that book, I felt scared of that happening to me: I didn’t want to be with somebody just because of my loneliness or my… Desire to be loved. One day when I was like 10 or something a girl kissed me for the first time and I cried for hours because I had liked it but I didn’t really care about her”

“Poor Amy”

“You remember?”

“Of course I remember, Haz”

Now he does actually feel like crying. Nothing has changed, this is the same Louis he met years ago. _His_ Louis.

“Yeah I… I’ve been scared of that my whole life, I think I’m still a bit scared, actually”

“Was it… I mean, it wasn’t like that with me… Right?”

“No! No, no… No. That’s my point, with you it was different. After the break up, it wasn’t… It wasn’t... _Being held_ what I missed the most. It was just you”

 _Just_ you. Like it was light and easy. He remembers turning around in bed and not being able to sleep the moment he felt he was alone in a king size bed. He was embarrassed to tell people how much he missed Louis, even Niall and Liam; even his mum and Gemma. No one could have ever understood how much it hurt turning around and not seeing Louis there, telling a joke and not hearing his muffled laugh, unconsciously cooking for two and eating alone.

He sees Louis’ bottom lip tremble for half a second and feels the urge to touch him. He moves the hand that’s resting on the couch and reached out but freezes when he’s about to touch the tips of Louis’ fingers. His eyes look like the ocean and Harry feels _stupid stupid stupid_. He knows how to swim but he’s… Forgotten. Kind of.

He’s written hundreds of songs about blue eyes and now that he has them right here, he doesn’t know what to do. All he can do is be honest.

“I wrote _‘Two Ghosts’_ the night we had that argument”

“Really?”, Louis asks, but doesn’t look too surprised.

“Oh, come on, you probably knew that already”

He laughs and Harry can swear his cheeks turns a light red. He looks younger, like the Louis he used to kiss under the sheets in the X Factor house.

“I didn’t know… I _hoped_ , I guess”

“Hoped?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Well, it’s a sad song, yeah, but I thought… Maybe he hasn’t forgotten about me, I don’t know”

Harry smiles to himself. _Forget about him? Yeah, not really._ “I didn’t sleep that night. I spent hours writing lyrics that didn’t quite make sense… But at nearly 5 am I had a whole song. I read it in the morning and I almost threw it away but, I don’t know, it grew out on me I guess. It was a way to remember what happened and how I felt”

Louis stares at him and for a quick moment, Harry is sure he’s going to lean in and kiss him, but for a quick second he doesn’t know if that’s what he wants – Well, yeah, _it is,_ but for a second he doesn’t know if it’s going to break him or put him together again. Instead, Louis unlocks his phone, looks at the screen and then tosses it away again. When his eyes at back in Harry’s, his voice is softer, “you have a guitar here, right?”

Harry, still hooked up in the idea of tasting his lips again, doesn’t really know what to expect. “…Why?”

“Do you or not?”, Louis asks, laughing.

“Yeah… Yeah, of course”

Louis gets up, resting his knees on the carpet and pushes the small table away from them, putting it closer to the tv. When he goes back to Harry, he takes off his green sweatshirt. Harry’s palms are sweaty and suddenly he feels alarmed, so he sits up and doesn’t take his eyes away from Louis – from Louis’ body. He has a white shirt underneath and Harry really wants to run his hands through it and mess it up.

“Bring it”

“Louis, what… Why?”

“It’s not nearly 5 am but… Maybe we can redeem ourselves”

Harry frowns. “I… What… I mean—”

Louis stars laughing. Harry feels like he’s laughing at him now, “Bring the guitar and sing me the song, Harry”

There’s a light in Louis’ eyes he doesn’t quite know how to process. It’s been… It’s been way too long since Harry wrote that song in an empty bed with unwashed hair and dirty kleenex all over the room. Louis wasn’t there but his clothes were on the floor. Now he’s here, they’re both here.

“Turns out you are a romantic after all”, Harry says, already getting up.

“Told you”, he hears, already rushing to the stairs.

Harry runs out of breath the moment he steps in the second floor. Suddenly, he feels lost in his own house, he doesn’t know where his room is, where the hell he put the guitar. He needs to stop for a moment, close his eyes and catch his breath. Louis is here. After years, he’s here again. Not in his house, maybe not even in his life anymore, but _here again –_ whatever that means.

He feels his own blood rushing through his veins, the stomach in his throat, his legs shaking. It’s like being 16 again, but not just a 16-year-old in love – but 16-year-old Harry in the X Factor house, asking Louis to touch him for the first time and being scared of rejection; the same Harry who blushed whenever Louis would sit by his side or brush his hand when he passed by; the same boy who told his mom on the phone that he was quite sure he was in love with someone for the first time.

He rushes to his room and picks up the guitar, thrown in the center of the bed. He almost trips running down the stairs and hears a quiet laugh when he does so. Louis hasn’t moved an inch and for a moment he feels the urge to ask him what he’s thought about the minutes he was here alone; but he doesn’t.

He sits down, crossed-leg on the floor, mirroring Louis’ stance. He adjusts the guitar and looks at Louis’ eyes one more time, holding his breath. What he finds there gives him the courage to start singing.

_Same lips red, same eyes blue. Same white shirt, couple more tattoos. But it's not you and it's not me._

It’s weird – he has written songs for Louis before, and he has sung them to him before too, but it was never like this. He can feel a new tension between them, something that makes his fingers doubt when they touch the strings, that threatens to make him forget the words.

 _We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat_.

That night, Harry had felt like they weren’t the Louis and Harry they used to be, yelling at each other and reproaching things they promised to never hold against each other; but the morning after, it had felt like they were those two ghosts, the shadow of a complex combination of two people who loved each other so much but also couldn’t bear with their love anymore. Somehow, right now, it doesn’t feel like they’re those ghosts, but just them, just two people _trying_ , learning who they are after all this time, meeting for the second time. Harry can’t look up – _he can’t_. Louis’ eyes are already imprinted in his mind and everything is _blue, blue, blue_. He closes his eyes when he looks at him, but he knows he’s still there, he knows he’s looking at him, and that gives him the strength to finish the song – but also doesn’t let the feeling go, makes it linger in his body just a bit more in case it has to go again.

 _I'm just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat_.

Harry opens his eyes and isn’t surprised to find Louis exactly where he was before. There’s a warmth in his stomach that feels familiar and it isn’t until Louis turns his head to the side and smiles softly at him that he doesn’t remember why: it’s the same feeling he used to have when he would go to bed when they were still together; it didn’t matter how long the day had been or how many times they had had to pretend they weren’t aware of each other’s presence, they would still go to bed together, they would still sleep on the same bed – Harry would turn around and still find Louis there.

Suddenly, Louis sits up and gets closer to him. Harry’s heartbeat is rising again, going crazy in his chest. He takes the guitar from Harry’s hands and sets it aside, supporting his body with his knees pressed on the floor. Now, he’s sure it’s going to happen. But again, instead of getting closer to Harry, Louis just stands there, a few inches away from him but never closer than that. Harry gives up.

"I miss you", he whispers. It sounds desperate – _and it is_.

"I'm right here, Harry"

Harry nods and whispers a tired _"yeah"_ , almost incredulous, feeling tears behind his eyes. It doesn't feel real – he wants to tell him. Louis is physically there but somehow it still feels like he’s stuck in all those past years without him. He wants more, he wants everything. It's almost intoxicating, he doesn't feel like it could ever be enough.

He feels Louis' fingers brushing his hand – the one resting in the couch again – and then tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, almost making the button pop. He follows the movement with his eyes, unable to look away. He keeps tugging at it and the sleeve ends up almost covering his hand. Harry bites his bottom lip, suddenly incapable of looking at Louis’ face again, only focusing on the sleeve of his shirt and Louis’ hand – there’s a battle in his mind; he wants to let go and just kiss him or let Louis kiss him, _whatever_ ; but there’s also a voice in his mind that tells him to back up, to protect himself from the hurricane that is Louis. But he keeps tugging and tugging, almost bringing Harry’s body to him – it’s impossible to hear that voice anymore.

“Harry”, he whispers. And that’s all Harry needs to look up again. And what a terrible mistake.

He leans even closer to Harry, resting his right hand on the carpet, next to Harry’s left thigh. Somehow, he still finds his hand coming up to Louis’ chest, carefully pulling him away. “ _Wait_ ”

He just now realizes how blown away Louis’ pupils are – he can’t almost see the blue in them. He looks lost and the voice in his head that told him to stop goes away again, until Louis speaks.

"That has changed"

Harry frowns, still holding Louis’ chest with his right hand.

"I used to be the one running away", he simply says, sounding almost breathless.

"You never ran away"

"So you _are_ running away”, and with that, the hurt and almost disappointed he could see in Louis’ face is almost gone.  Now, he wears a weak smirk on his face.

Harry exhales. He didn't remember this about Louis, he didn't quite remember how clever, witty and almost annoying he could get. And the truth is he never wants to _have to_ remember that.

"You exhaust me", Harry says, because it’s true.

"That hasn't changed"

And there it is again, the side of Louis he could never be able to forget. He laughs and so does Louis; Harry feels sixteen again. He looks up and sees Louis still chuckling.

Harry just stops trying to understand himself. The answer to all those questions – _what the hell am I doing? Why am I acting like this?_ – seems to be just one word: Louis. He grabs Louis’ shirt in his fist, brining Louis’ body a bit closer to him, looking at Louis’ eyes.

Louis looks at him with curious eyes, "I thought you were running away", he says, now lowering his stare to look at Harry’s lips.

"Do you want me to run away?", he whispers, scared to break the moment.

Louis’ eyelashes look even longer. Harry can see him swallowing and then looking at him straight in the eyes. He doesn't talk or add any witty comment, he just shakes his head and his whole face changes: he looks serious, almost nervous and a bit insecure. Harry can't help but blush. He wants to tell him no one has been able to make him blush and turn his body into jelly like that; even a couple of years after they broke up Harry kept telling himself the reason why he wasn't able to feel anything quite like what he felt for Louis was because he was indeed still a teenager when they were together. Now, feeling his stomach twist every time Louis looks at him, he can't lie to himself anymore.

He finally moves his right hand and rests it in the space between Louis’ neck and shoulder, getting a response from him he swears he’ll never be able to forget: Louis closes his eyes for just a mere second only to open them up again, looking at Harry with even more intensity and vulnerability than before. Harry feels drunk.

Louis lunges forward and rests his forehead on Harry’s, which causes an instant intake of breath in Harry, unable to catch up to everything’s Louis is making him feel. He moves the hand that’s resting on Louis’ neck up to his nape, losing his fingers in his hair and even scratching his scalp with his nails.

He’s not sure he’s breathing when he finally reaches all the way out and finds Louis’ lips, waiting for him. They taste each other out at first, pressing their lips together for a few seconds before pulling away – only to go back again. They’re still not kissing like Harry’s sure they both want to, afraid of pulling the wrong buttons, of messing it up, of risking it by going too far too soon.

He feels Louis’ left hand on his shoulder and he’s suddenly aware of his right hand, now coming up to the back of his neck, pressing a bit tighter, pulling Harry into him. It isn’t until Harry decides to go all in and bring Louis’ whole body into his, making him open his legs and sit on his lap, that Louis decides to fully open his mouth and starts kissing Harry in a way it makes him see stars and the whole galaxy.

The beard feels different but the lips are the same and that makes Harry’s chest burn with desire and… _Love_. Whatever it means now. He lowers his hands and grabs Louis by his hips, pressing him even closer to his body, not letting anything put them apart now. If only he could be sure of that, if only by kissing him and touching _everywhere_ he could make sure nothing would ever stand in their way.

Their kiss gets heated, tongues exploring and lips turning more and more swollen. It’s messy and it also isn’t enough, so Harry grabs Louis’ bum with both hands and throws himself on top of him, making Louis touch the carpet with his back. They both laugh when Louis yelps, surprised at the sudden movement, but go back to kissing when they realize it isn’t indeed enough.

Harry untangles his hands from behind Louis and puts one on his neck, while the other looks for Louis’ hand, finding it closer to the couch. He tangles his fingers together and for a moment, it finally feels enough. He feels whole and complete, everything suddenly coming together.  His apartment finally feels like home, and it’s sad to think he’s been trying to put away the thought that Louis was all he needed for this place to finally feel his.

They kiss with such intensity and passion, Louis has to grab Harry from his scalp not to miss every time he moves up to catch his lips.  Harry is so busy grabbing Louis’ hand with his own and placing their arms together above their heads, he totally misses Louis’ smirk right before turning them around and lying on top of Harry, changing their positions – which leads to Harry knocking his head over the table’s leg.

“Ouch”, he says, scratching his head with his right hand – sadly untangling his fingers with Louis’.

“Oh my god, you alright?” Louis says, looking at Harry with wide eyes and ghosting his fingertips over Harry’s head.

“I’ll survive”

“You better”, Louis says. It sounds a bit corny but Harry’s so gone he just presses Louis’ lips against his again.

Louis tastes of sushi and beer and his beard tickles. His tongue is warm and soft against Harry’s mouth and his hands travel everywhere, from his cheeks to his chest to grab his thighs and press Harry’s body against his own, making Harry moan quietly and almost missing Louis’ mouth in the process. He can feel every bit of Louis’ body against his own

Time passes by and they’re still kissing. Food containers all over the table, Andy Samberg making some prisoners sing, the floor creaking under their bodies and pressing against Harry’s back.

Suddenly, a phone starts ringing and Louis leaves Harry’s mouth to hover over his shirt, pressing his forehead against his chest, clearly taken aback from the intensity of the moment. _Damn it._ They’re both breathing heavily and Harry’s eyes are glossy, almost making everything blurry. Louis shifts for a second and Harry can feel a vibration in his pants. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, _it’s definitely a phone._

“I… I think that’s your phone”, Harry says, almost breathing into Louis’ hair and speaking with a tiny and shaky voice.

“Yeah”, Louis says, but he doesn’t get up or reach for it, he stays there, on top of Harry, his right hand still on Harry’s thigh and his left on his hips. It’s almost obscene, really – if the person who’s calling knew the position Louis is in right now.

“Are you gonn—”

But Harry doesn’t have time to finish the sentence before Louis is moving, his head coming up to line up with his, just centimeters apart. He licks his lips, locking eyes with Harry and clearly saying no without talking, just moving his head from left to right very slowly. “I’m kinda busy” he says right before freaking _smirking_. Thankfully, the phone stops and it’s almost silent again.

Harry bites his bottom lip and is about to bring Louis down to kiss him again when the damn phone starts ringing again. “Oh, for God’s sake”, Louis says under his breath, resting his forehead on Harry again.

This time, he does sit up, sadly getting away from Harry and kneeling beside him. Harry feels stupid, so he sits up as well, resting his palms on the carpet and letting them support his weigh.

 _“What?”_ Louis says to whoever was calling. “No, I’m busy”

And _okay_. Harry doesn’t want to be a creep and even though this is the last thing he wants to do right now, he commands his body and head to get up and get away from Louis – at least for a few minutes. He sees Louis’ head snap and look up at him with a frown and his mouth half open, like he doesn’t understand why Harry is leaving. There’s a tiny voice in his head telling him he should get the door and leave, but they’re in his flat so… _Nope_.

How is it possible? – he thinks while walking into the kitchen and resting his hands on the cold counter, giving his back to the door – How is it possible that a few seconds ago he was feeling like he could hold the whole world in his bare hands and now he isn’t sure he’s even capable of talking?

Suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t even know if Louis is dating someone. They just had a full make out session and he doesn’t even know if that was right – well, it was right, but what if he’s cheating on someone with Harry? What if he just got into something he didn’t know? He wouldn’t do that, right? _This is Louis we’re talking about. No._ But what if there’s a guy in his life who isn’t his boyfriend but who could possibly be? Why is Harry considering all of this just now – or considering it in general?

“Hey, Haz” he hears behind him.

And right now, the nickname only makes things worse.

“You okay?”, Louis asks.

Harry feels steps behind his back, approaching him, but he doesn’t feel a hand on his back or his shoulder. Just steps and then… _Silence_.

He turns his head to look at Louis by the corner of his eyes and nods. _I’m okay. Right?_

“Wanna go back t—”

“Are you seeing someone?”

And silence again. This time, it isn’t comfortable or peaceful, it’s tense and awkward. Harry wants to burst out crying, but instead he clenches his fists, making his knuckles turn white.

Finally, it’s Louis who speaks, “what?”

“Are you?”, Harry asks again, still not facing Louis completely, but looking at him by the corner of his eyes.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was dating anyone, what the hell?”

Harry breathes for the first time in what feels like hours. He bites his bottom lip and decides whether or not to turn around. His heart is beating so fast and it isn’t till right now that he realizes how scared he is.

He feels a warm hand on his right shoulder and his stomach twists. “Hey”

He turns around, letting Louis’ hand fall down his arm and resting on his wrist, not holding it but keeping his body close to his, touching.

Louis’ eyes look like globes, like blue balloons that might explode any time. He looks hurt, like Harry’s question has really put him off. Harry watches as Louis’ eyes travel from his eyes to his lips, only to go back to his eyes.

“…Are you…?”, Louis asks with a small voice.

“What?”

“Are you… Seeing—”

“No!”

Louis just nods, not looking away from his eyes. How could he – he asks himself – how could he be with someone else when he hasn’t been able to get Louis out of his mind in all these years? It kind of makes sense Louis looked so hurt after Harry’s question, which means that maybe he still has feelings for him, the same way Harry still feels about Louis.

Harry can still feel Louis’ fingers on his wrist even though they’re barely there. Somehow, those fingers are keeping Harry still, grounded, together. He moves his hand and tries to catch Louis’ fingers with his, to what he responds immediately.

He looks up only to find Louis already looking at him, pressing his lips together.

Harry swallows, “I’m scared”.

The corners of Louis’ lips go up, but somehow the smile that appears on his face doesn’t express happiness. He nods, “Yeah… Me too, H. This is crazy”

Harry nods as well because there isn’t much he can say right now. Their fingers are still intertwined but he needs to be closer, closer so he stops thinking about all the things that could go wrong, closer so they don’t try to mess this up again. Closer so he can breathe again.

As if Louis has heard him, he grabs Harry by the nape and closes the distance between their foreheads, touching his nose with his and stopping there, giving Harry the space to back away if that’s what he wants.

He doesn’t.

So Harry moves forward and finally, _finally_ catches his lips again. He feels the rush of the moment all over his body, not being able to stop his hands for travelling all the way up and down to Louis’ chest and neck. It’s intoxicating and it feels so good he’s scared of not feeling this again.

The kiss is more consistent now. They don’t go back and forth like they did before, they kiss with more passion and intention, with their mouths open, trying to catch up on all the moments and feelings they lost over the past five years. Four hands that don’t seem to know what they’re doing, just moving up and down, gripping hard and letting go almost at the same time. And that’s what it feels like, like trying to grasp the moment but also not holding too tight in case it’s going to fall apart and leave them lost again.

That’s exactly when Harry realizes Louis is London’s metaphor, both big and small. He can get lost in Louis, lose track of time and not realize how gone he is until it’s over; but he’s also home, he’s familiar, he’s the warm feeling in your stomach when you stop feeling lonely.

Harry gets carried away by the feel of Louis’ lips on his own and the bruise his beard is going to leave on his face; so carried away that pushes Louis into the fridge, swallowing the grutal noise that comes from his mouth. He tangles his fingers on Louis’ hair, messing his fringe and feeling his pants growing as he keeps on tugging on his lips over and over again.

It’s not until Louis shifts that he realizes the bulge in his pants as well. He moans on Louis’ mouth and now it’s his turn to swallow that sound, to grasp it so hard none of them will ever forget it.  Harry lowers his hand down Louis’ back in the reduced space between his body and the fridge, resting his palms on Louis’ bum, grabbing his cheeks on both his palms. He feels Louis’ right leg come up to his left sin and he takes it as his cue to do what’s he’s been dying to since he touched his lips.

He picks him up and crashes his body against the fridge again. “Harry, for God’s sake…”, Louis moans, leaving Harry’s mouth for a few seconds and resting his head against the fridge. Harry looks at his neck, so open and tanned, so… There for him, so he starts kissing it and licking wherever he can at the same time as Louis moves his body and their crotches collide together, creating the friction they both needed.

They thrust their bodies together, Louis supporting his body by grabbing the top of the fridge, trying for his palm not to slide through the surface and make him lose the rhythm they’ve both got into. Right then and there, Harry realizes, _this is it_. This is what he’s always pictured love and sex being like. This is also the reason why somehow things didn’t work in the past five years with the few people he tried to be involved with: it was all supposed to work out. Fancy dinners at expensive restaurants, holding hands in the VIP area of a random concert, making out during New Year’s Eve… Even something as having messy and wild sex in a hotel room. It was all meant to work out. But this? Rubbing their sweaty bodies together like teenagers at almost 3 am with the intro of Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing in the living room? Right after making out all over the carpet and against the kitchen counter? This is what it’s supposed to feel like, isn’t it? He’s scared the frozen pizzas stocked in the freezer are gonna pop out and kick Louis in the head, he feels his next-door neighbors are about to knock on his door asking for an explanation and he’s about to come in his pants by just rocking his hips against Louis’. It’s insane, raw and even ridiculous – and it couldn’t feel better. Harry hasn’t felt this alive in years.  

Louis moans and his voice sounds higher than usual. In a quick and sudden shift of their bodies, Louis hugs Harry by his shoulders, twisting his fingers in Harry’s short curls and pressing their foreheads together so hard that Harry can already begin to feel the start of a headache.

It’s sweaty and probably not very romantic, every frantic thrust leaving them even more restless than before, but also trying even harder to reach the orgasm that’s building up in their stomachs. Harry closes his eyes hard, breathing heavily, until he feels Louis’ fingers tugging at his hair even harder than before. When he opens them again, he’s so overwhelmed by Louis’ blown pupils and sweaty face he can’t stop the words that end up coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t want… I don’t want to _not_ be with you anymore”

“ _Fuck_ ”. And Louis finally comes, pressing his calves so hard against Harry’s legs he almost makes the younger fall into the ground. Instead, Harry follows right behind him and comes in his pants with a loud moan.

The aftermath is the worst part. Harry’s mind going everywhere. _I don’t want to not be with you anymore._ He didn’t want to say that, but it was a safer version of the painful _I don’t want to be without you anymore_ – or even worse, _I want to be with you forever_. Who says that during sex? Why did he choose that specific moment to confess his feelings? Why does he always have to fuck things up with Louis? He didn’t remember that, he didn’t remember how Louis is the only one capable of making him lose the self-control he had been fighting so hard to obtain. For a moment, he wonders if Louis has even heard him.

His head is resting in the spot between Harry’s neck and shoulder, his legs no longer pressing hard against his body, but his arms are still around him, grounding him. They’re both breathing heavily and that almost helps to quiet all the painful thoughts in Harry’s brain – _almost_. He doesn’t want to let go just yet, still supporting Louis in his arms, he doesn’t want to break this little bubble and watch Louis break his heart in whatever way he decides to go on with the night. But his legs are shaking and he can’t think straight.

“My… Erm, sorry, can you—”

“Oh, shit, sorry, yeah”, Louis says, supporting his hands on Harry’s shoulders and untangling himself from his body. It’s cold again.

It gets even worse _._ Now they’re both awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking everywhere but at each other, with cum drying on his pants and still haven’t been able to compose their breathings. _What do people do in these situations?_

Louis looks absolutely gorgeous. Maybe Harry is just at a loss of words because of how Louis looks. He’s standing right there, with his white shirt all rumpled, his hair sticking out everywhere and his lips _red red red_ – looking obscene in contrast with his bright blue eyes. Harry’s _fucked_.

“So…”, Louis says, looking at Harry and playing with his own hands.

Harry bites his top lip and looks at Louis for a second before looking away, scratching the back of his head. He can’t stand this awkwardness anymore and to be honest, back at the bar he was always expecting Louis to break all the awkward moments they may create, but right now he’s not doing anything either and there’s way too much silence between the two. So, he does what every grown-up does in these situations – he buries his face in his hands and mutters, “ _this is the worst_ ”. _Right. Yeah. Sure._

“Well, thank you for that _I guess_ ”

It’s the bitterness in Louis’ voice what ultimately makes him react.

“No, no, no! I didn’t— _Urgh_. This is too awkward, I don’t know how to act around you! It’s like I’m sixteen again and we’re— I can’t even _talk_. I… I meant what I said Louis, I mean I don’t even know if you heard me but— I just…”

It doesn’t make sense and Harry knows that, but does any of this make any sense anyway? Words aren’t really leaving his mouth, not when Louis looks so… Lost? It’s distracting, and painful if Harry’s being really honest. His eyes are brighter than the night he slammed the door shut and left an almost crying Harry in bed, about to write what would become the song that would bring them back together – even if it is for one night.

He breathes out. _Come on._ A nervous laughter comes out of him and it’s all downhill from there.

“My album is for you, is all for you. It’s me trying to… Reach out. Even when the song doesn’t talk about you, it’s meant for you to hear it – to hear me out. And now I have the chance to do so and I can’t speak! Louis you are… _Ugh_ ”

Harry covers his face again, not being able to say what’s been going through his mind for the past five years of his life. It’s all bullshit. It doesn’t really matter how much he’s able to let out, no words will ever be enough to express how he feels about Louis, not even dozens of songs.

But then Louis reaches out for him, uncovering his face, softly putting away his hands and touching his face with his own. There’s no confusion, no anger, nothing that makes Harry feels uncomfortable about his almost confession (almost?). His eyes look as kind as ever and there’s a light smile on his face that makes the younger both relax and feel more nervous at the same time. He lowers his stare and starts playing with his necklace, twisting it between his fingers. His voice is low when he speaks.

“So… Sweet Creature is about me, huh?”, he asks, looking up.

Harry looks at him in pure awe, widening his eyes and not really getting where this is going. There’s a smile creeping, so he just shrugs and pouts so it doesn’t come out yet.

Louis hums. “You really are smitten with me, _aren’t you_ ”

Harry blushes and Louis starts smiling, teeth on display, making his eyes even brighter than before and the so familiar crinkles by his eyes make Harry feel home again.

Louis mouths a soft “I’m joking” when they’re still laughing and it comes back to Harry, the thought that Louis might not know – may have never known – what he means to him, how many feelings he has been able to wake on Harry since they met.

When the laugh dies down, it’s Louis the one who dares to talk. “I don’t know why we try to be so dramatic all the time… It’s you and me, curly. It’s always been you and me and we know each other”

Harry bites his bottom lip and nods. _Yeah, always._

“I did hear what you said”, Louis tells him with a bit more shyness in his voice, “and It’s… It really is awful to be without you, H”

And it’s the sincerity and familiarity in Louis’ voice what makes Harry’s heart almost burst out of his chest. It feels like a weight has lifted from his shoulders, like all these years thinking that something wasn’t exactly working, like something – _someone_ was missing.

He doesn’t want to lose any more time, so he closes the distance between the two and kisses Louis again, this time with even a bit more sincerity in his kiss, more certainty, like it could last forever and none of them will matter the least. He grabs his face between his palms and it’s weird at first because they can’t stop smiling and there’s so much teeth that they can’t really make it work. While Louis is still laughing, Harry starts kissing his cheeks and his jaw, his neck – his whole face. It’s ticklish and it only makes Louis laugh more, and to be quite honest with himself, this whole image could look stupid and ridiculous from afar – but honestly, _who cares?_

Louis grabs him by the hips and Harry seizes the movement to start walking towards the sofa, making the older one walk backwards and almost fall a couple of times. Harry pushes both of them into the couch and they almost knock each other on the head, Louis laughing and not being able to stop.

“Sorry”, Harry whispers while laughing along with him.

“Seems like we need more practice”, Louis says, grabbing Harry by the nape and kissing him, pressing their bodies impossibly closer.

This time, the kiss isn’t rushed and passionate; it’s slow, caring. They lose track of time, exploring each other, kissing their mouths, their necks – biting gently, grabbing each other’s hair locks. They get hard again but don’t do anything about it, they just let it go, too caught up in the moment to make it go away.

“Okay, I don’t want to break this but you’re literally crashing me”, Louis says at some point, with Harry looking down at him, feeling his hands at the end of his back.

“ _Hey_ ”, he jokes.

After a bit of tossing and shifting, Harry ends up with his back pressed on the couch and Louis’ body by him, his elbow pressed next to Harry’s head and his right hand laying flat con Harry’s tummy, creating unknown patterns.

They stay quiet for a while, watching the tv but not really paying attention to it. Harry reaches for a blanket sitting next to couch and covers them both. It feels like no time has passed since 2012, like they’ve always been side by side for the past five years and not miles away from each other. It’s a familiar feeling, Louis right next to him in the couch at what looks like nearly 5 am. There’s comfort in having Louis’ hand pressed against his stomach and Harry suddenly feels at peace with the world. It’s cheesy and he will probably regret these words tomorrow when— _Wait_.

“What do you want for breakfast?”, he asks Louis, completely out of the blue.

“What?”, he says with a light smile on his lips.

“Nothing”, Harry says, blushing.

Louis shifts and rests his cheek on his left hand, looking back at Harry with a funny expression on his face. “Did you just ask me what I want for breakfast?”

“Why did you make me repeat that if you had already heard me?” Harry asks, feeling hot in his cheeks.

And Louis starts laughing, pressing his forehead against Harry’s chest. They’re definitely 17 years old, _yup_. He looks up at him again and presses a light kiss on his lips. He looks serious.

“Listen. We can’t waste any more time. I feel like we’ve already lost so many things, don’t you? I… This is gonna sound very stupid and if you hold it against me Harold I swear I’ll ditch you forever, okay?”

Harry smiles and nods, pressing his teeth against his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t text you when my first single came out. I was… I was freaking out, scared of disappointing people, of fans coming at me saying I wasn’t good enough on my own… When I heard _‘Just Hold On’_ in the studio for the first time you were the first person I wanted to show it to. Shit, I… I spent days thinking if you’d like it”

He bites his cheek and starts playing with Harry’s hair, right above his ear and Harry feels like his chest is about to blow up with so much love and admiration for this boy. In a rush, he holds his body closer to him, grabbing him by the hips and staring at his blue eyes, fighting back the need to kiss him – at least for now.

“I don’t want to feel that again. I want to show you all the songs I’ve written and I want to write with you – like we used to. I want to listen to what you have and I… I don’t want to scare you off, but…”

“You’re not” he says, unable to stay quiet anymore. “You’re not”, he says with more confidence in his voice. “I want to do everything with you, Lou”

Louis smiles so big Harry’s scared his face is going to break in two, so he lifts his head and kisses him so that doesn’t happen. Louis kisses him back until he stops and pushes Harry lightly into the couch, “Eggs benedict. I want eggs benedict for breakfast. _Your_ eggs benedict”

“I’ll cook you eggs benedict every day, Lou”. He thinks back to what he just said and cringes a bit, “I feel like I’m being too bold with you”

“You’ve always been bold”, Louis says before leaving a kiss on his lips.

“That’s not true”, Harry says, almost offended.

“No? Let me recall, you were the one who said you found me – and I’m just quoting you – _so_ hot when we had barely just met, the first who kissed me, who touched me, who implied we should live together, who—”

“Okay, _okay_ , I get it”

Harry feels embarrassed for a second before he realizes what Louis has just implied. He smiles and looks at him so fondly he’s scared his own dimple is gonna pop out of his face.

“ _What_ ” Louis asks.

“You remember everything”

“Get over yourself” he says before leaning over and kissing him again.

They kiss for a while until they fall asleep next to each other – Louis’ head pressed against Harry’s chest. The lights are still on and there’s a weird program on the tv none of them get to even watch. The sun starts creeping through the windows just one hour after they fall asleep and Louis presses his head deeply into Harry’s body to try and hide his eyes from the sun. Their jeans feel uncomfortable on their bodies and there’s dry cum on their pants. Harry doesn’t go out jogging for the first time in months and Louis forgets he was supposed to meet Lottie at the airport. The whole room smells of sushi and sweat.

 _Still_ , they’re gonna be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure about the ending... I didn't really know when to finish writing. Hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading, it means the world. xx
> 
> Also, come say [hi](http://minttobe-treehill.tumblr.com/) if you want to.


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